Victory in the restaurant

three other girls in the restaurant were doing similar work as me.

　　My main job was to clean up the scraps from the plates and hand them to Estelle, who was in charge of cleaning them. I picked up the silver-plated dishes from each plate and threw them into a special pot; the napkins went into the trash, and the uneaten items from the plates went into the trash. At first, I always scraped the leftovers with a spoon, but the students ate quickly because they were in a hurry to get to class, and it didn't take long for the plates to pile up. I had to roll up my sleeves and use my palm as a rag to quickly wipe off the contents of the plates. The rice, mashed potatoes, and beets were easier to clean up and were still warm in my hands. The hardest thing to get is the gravy and the filling inside the various pies, which requires skill to scrape off. The plate handed to Estelle had to be clean, and then she would put it in a wire cage and boil it.

　　At first, I was ashamed and didn't want my classmates to see the mess I made scraping off the leftovers. But soon I got into my role, with only my eyes on the job, and did it more and more skillfully. Later I used both hands to clean both plates at the same time, and no scraps escaped my eyes.

　　Estelle and I were like comrades in arms, often laughing at each other's sweaty appearance as if we had just been fished out of the water. Every day I cleaned hundreds of plates to hand to her, and in the process, I never dropped any dishes on the concrete floor. I learned to avoid the juices and sauces if they were clever enough to keep them from splashing on my clothes.

　　Even after all the students left the cafeteria, my job wasn't over. I had to take the waste paper from the bin to the incinerator at the back of the school to incinerate it and burn it thoroughly before I could return.

　　Miss Donner always had to glare at me when I walked into the classroom. No matter how many times I washed my hands, my fingertips still reeked of leftovers. All afternoon, I was subjected to stares. The class teacher would frown at the sight of me, while the other students showed envy, jealous that I could leave the classroom for up to two hours.

　　One day, two months later, Mrs. Barnett gathered the four of us students who worked for the cafeteria together. She said that the county health department required that all employees working in restaurants receive a food safety and sanitation course. The class was held at City Hall and lasted two weeks. The course is taught twice a day, and our students attend the one that starts at 10 a.m.

　　That's a great way to get into town every morning! What exciting news. When I told Miss Donna about it, her frown grew even more.

　　"Might as well not come to school." She said.

　　In those days, we rarely got to go into town yet. Every morning it felt like we were on a journey of novelty. There was only one spot in the bread delivery truck we rode in for the driver, and the four of us students had to stand in the pile of bread, clinging to the wire shelf where it was kept. The driver forgot about our presence every time he turned a corner, but before getting on the truck he repeatedly told us that we must not show our heads or the boss would not let him off if he knew he was carrying people.

　　The class was held in a basement, and the person who gave us the class worked for the state health department. We were the only kids in the class, everyone else was a waiter, cook, or restaurant manager. When we walked into class that first day, everyone laughed.

　　After class, we needed to work at a faster pace because we came into the cafeteria later than usual, and at the same time, I came back to class later. The classroom teacher's face was getting harder and harder every day. One day just as I walked in the door, she said, "Welcome back, world adventurer." Many people laughed when they heard that.

　　When it rained, the incinerator at the back of the school came in handy, and the waste paper buckets had to be taken to the basement of the school, where there was a furnace for burning waste paper. The janitor patiently showed me how to put on the big thick gloves and open the oven, but unfortunately, I never got the hang of it, and when I threw the paper in, it would bring out black smoke and leave traces on my clothes and body.

　　On the last day of the hygiene class, it was raining heavily, and by the time I got to the basement, it was late. I was sweating a lot from the rush and subconsciously wiped my forehead with the charcoal-covered glove. When I returned to class, everyone laughed at me.

"Robert, come here for a minute." Miss Donner said.

　　When I approached her desk, Miss Donner pulled a Kleenex out of it and wiped my face with it. After wiping the cinders off my face thoroughly, she had me stand facing the class.

　　"You don't come to class, but you know how to wander all over the world. Look what you've gotten." She said, raising the darkened tissue in her hand, and then slapped me solidly on the butt.

　　Once again, the class laughed. The difference was that this time the laughter was very neat. I laughed along with them as a sense of pride rose in me and I could say that I knew I had won: I had opened my eyes in town, I had missed some classes, I had annoyed Miss Donna, but little me had won lunch on my own after overcoming so many seemingly insurmountable odds. Just like life's ups and downs, what's the big deal about the slap? I should have laughed, shouldn't I?